


The Home Fires Still Burn

by hiraeth_alba



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst and Feels, BAMF Stiles, Beta Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Character Death, Deputy Allison Argent, Deputy Derek Hale, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone is Part of the Pack, Flashbacks, Good Peter Hale, Graphic Description, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, POV Alternating, Pregnant Allison Argent, Reunions, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Veterinarian Scott McCall (Teen Wolf)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26415184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraeth_alba/pseuds/hiraeth_alba
Summary: Stiles gripped the steering wheel more tightly as he passed over the state line into California.Four years. In a few short hours, he would be back in Beacon Hills. Home. For the first time in almost four years. For so long he had refused to let himself think of it, of what he had left behind there, of who he had left behind. He had almost given up on ever seeing them again.A quiet whimper from the back seat made him wince, and with a glance in the rearview mirror he took a deep breath and felt the tension in his shoulders ease incrementally.As his heart rate began to even out, he felt his eyes start to droop. He was so tired. Twenty hours straight with only a few short stops to refuel. He could feel an adrenaline crash beginning to creep up on him. Just a few more hours and they would be safe. He glanced once more at the back seat and the identical dark heads sleeping quietly in the back seat. He straightened determinedly, wincing at the corresponding burn in his side, and shook himself awake. Just a few more hours.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 66
Kudos: 378





	1. Chapter 1 (Stiles)

**Author's Note:**

> About the fic:  
> Canon-divergence FUTURE FIC with Derek as Alpha. Scott did not become a True Alpha, but eventually caved to Stiles' good sense and they joined the Hale Pack. Erica and Boyd are alive, as is Allison. The only canonical deaths which I kept are those of the Hale family, including Laura's, and Aiden's death during the Nogitsune period of 3B. I'm not going to break down each and every plot line which has diverged, but if you assume all Betas turned by Scott (ahem, Liam), to have been turned by Derek, and eliminate any plot lines which focus on Scott being a True Alpha, and you should be good to go. 
> 
> This is my first fic ever, and non-beta'd so please let me know of any errors you might see. It is a WIP, I have a rough outline of where the story will go, but to be honest, I didn't realize how much work it was, or the sheer number of man hours required to write like this. So the decision to continue this fic will be based on your interest as readers. Also, thanks to all the other contributors out there who put out such amazing content! I now have more appreciation than ever for the effort you put into delivering creative content!
> 
> Ratings and Tags:  
> This fic is currently rated Mature, for adult themes (violence), but I have thoughts about increasing the rating to Explicit in future chapters, possibly in flashbacks, if there is enough interest for me to continue the story. Also, there is past mpreg in this fic, which, while not explicitly stated, is pretty clear if you read between the lines. This may become more explicitly depicted if I continue. I will update the fic accordingly if either of these situations come to pass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

Stiles gripped the steering wheel more tightly as he passed over the state line into California. 

_‘Four years. In a few short hours, he would be back in Beacon Hills. Home. For the first time in almost four years’._

For so long he had refused to let himself think of it, of what he had left behind there, of _who_ he had left behind. He had almost given up on ever seeing them again. 

A quiet whimper from the back seat made him wince, and with a glance in the rearview mirror he took a deep breath and felt the tension in his shoulders ease incrementally. 

As his heart rate began to even out, he felt his eyes start to droop. He was so tired. Twenty hours straight with only a few quick stops to refuel. He could feel an adrenaline crash beginning to creep up on him. Just a few more hours and they would be safe. He glanced back once more at the identical dark heads sleeping quietly in the back seat. He straightened determinedly, wincing at the corresponding burn in his side, and shook himself awake.

_Just a few more hours._

\-----

**_21 hours earlier…_ **

Stiles sat on the wooden swing, reveling in the warmth of the late summer air and allowed himself to be soothed by the quiet sounds of the crickets chirping and the wind whispering through the trees. He sighed. Soon the seasons would turn, and it would be too cold for him to do this. He felt the familiar worry begin to creep in as he thought of the future. The snick of the door caught his attention, and he looked up to see Charlie smiling softly at him, her bronze skin glowing in the soft light filtering out from the windows. 

Stiles returns the gesture, lips quirking up, as she comes to sit beside him. 

“What are you up to, Stiles?” she asks as she pushes off to set the swing into a gentle rocking motion, her raven black hair stirring the air with her signature jasmine scent. 

“Just thinking.” he responded, avoiding her liquid black gaze.

“Worrying, you mean. I know that look, Stiles, and you’ve been quiet all evening. That’s not like you.” She nudged him gently, rubbing their shoulders together. “Care to share what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” she teased.

Stiles sighed again, and leaned into the familiar weight of his friend. “Just thinking about the future” he admitted, finally meeting her eyes.

“Have you thought anymore about what mom said?” She probed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Stiles shakes his head, “I don’t know Charlie-” he says, attempting to pull away, but is stopped by his friend gripping him more tightly. 

Charlie let out her own sigh, before laying her head on his shoulder, her warm breath whispering against his skin as she scented him lightly. “Look, it’s not that we don’t love having you here, Stiles. We do. You and the twins are the best thing in my life, and Mom loves them like they were her own grandchildren. If she thought for a second it was what you really wanted, she would ask to claim you as pack in a heartbeat.” 

Stiles thought about that. The Wet’suwet’en First Nation Pack had been more than welcoming to him. Over the past few years they had saved his life in more ways than one, and Charlie and her mom Maureen, their Chief and Alpha, had become like family. 

Charlie watched his face and smiled sadly. “But we both know that however much you fit here, your place lies elsewhere.”

Stiles’ heart wrenched sadly “It’s not safe, Charlie, you know that,” he argued.

Charlie squeezed her friend gently, “You don’t know that Stiles. It’s been quiet for over a year, with no new intel to suggest otherwise. You said you saw Lucien fall in Rome, maybe it’s finally over. Maybe it’s time.”

Stiles thought about it for a few minutes, and felt a familiar longing grip him painfully for a moment before he pushed it back, shaking his head to clear it. “No, Charlie. It’s too dangerous. They never found a body and I can’t take the risk. I won’t put them in harm’s way. When the Primordials are dead, then we will go home.”

Charlie released her own sigh, shaking her head, and jostling her friend’s body by association. She was saddened, but not surprised by her friend’s answer. “You can’t spend your whole life hiding, Stiles. At some point you’re going to have to stop running, and live your life. You deserve that. The twins deserve that too.”

Stiles looped his arms tightly around Charlie’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “When did you get so wise, huh?” he asked, chuckling softly. 

“Hey!” she smacked him on the chest lightly. “I’ve always been chock full of good advice, it’s not my fault you never listen” she grumbled.

Stiles laughed. “Ok, Yoda, whatever you say.” 

Charlie grumbled again, tilting her head up and flashing her eyes Beta gold at Stiles in retaliation.

“Seriously, though” Stiles smiled, “all jokes aside. I think you’re going to be a great Alpha someday.”

Charlie melted back into his embrace. “Thanks, Stiles. That means a lot coming from you. Nice try, though, trying to change the subject.” She grinned where her face was pressed against his shirt.

Stiles smirked in return, “Well it was worth a shot.”

Charlie laughed. “I love you Stiles. You’re my best friend in the world. I just want you to be happy” she said, sincerity bleeding through her voice.

“I know, Charlie” Stiles responded softly. “ I love you too and I appreciate that, I do, but I’m not going to change my mind on this,” he responded, his voice firm.

Charlie huffed against his neck. “We’ll see,” she responded lightly.

“Charlie-” Stiles began, exasperated with his friend’s tenacity.

“Ok, ok” She relented. “I’ll let it go. Not forever, but at least for now. But don't think this is the end of this.” Her tone brooked no argument.

Stiles sighed, relieved at the reprieve, however brief it may be. “Fair enough.”

“Now,” she began teasingly, “If I’m Yoda, who does that make yo-” she was interrupted by a boom in the distance that reverberated back towards the house, the trees shaking in the wake of it. Stiles and Charlie both sat up straight, bodies tensing in response. 

“What was that?” Charlie asked sharply.

Stiles closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, they were glowing, gold sparks seeming to flicker up from the depths of his honey brown orbs. “The wards have broken” he said, meeting Charlie’s sharp gaze.

“Which ones” She asked, her voice tense as she stood, eyes glowing and claws descending in response.

“All of them,” Stiles responded, fear in his voice. A howl went up in the distance. “So much for quiet” he muttered as they ran inside, slamming the door in their hurry.

“Charlie!” Maureen, Charlie’s mom and Alpha shouted as she ran down the stairs. 

“Mom!” Charlie ran to her mother. “The wards have broken.”

“All the wards” Stiles added, coming up behind his friend and meeting the Alpha’s eyes. 

“Lucien,” she said, steel in her voice and fire in her eyes. Stiles nodded affirmatively and she turned to the pack, which had begun to gather around her. 

“Jacob,” she turned to her brother and second, who had been separating the pack into fighting groups, “barricade the entrances and get your people into position. I will take my group into the grounds for an offensive strike. Don’t let them breach the walls.” Jacob, a strong and quiet man who reminded Stiles strongly of Boyd, met his Alpha’s gaze for a long moment before lowering his head in submission and turning to do as instructed.

“Charlie,” Maureen turned back to them. “You and Stiles take the children down into the tunnels. If they breach the barricades, you take the twins, and you run.”

“Mom, no!” Charlie protested, shaking her head. “I can fight! I am the future Alpha of this pack and I should be fighting alongside my people,” she argued fiercely.

“Yes, and as future Alpha, it is your responsibility to ensure that this pack HAS a future.” her mother’s eyes flashed red before fading back to the onyx which matched her daughter’s. “If I lose you, _Suzki,_ I have nothing.” She brushed Charlie’s hair back, tucking it behind her ear, and gently cupped her face. “Stay in the tunnels, and keep the children safe.” Her eyes bled red once again. “That’s an order Charlene” she instructed, before turning to Stiles.

“I’m so sorry” Stiles blurted, as Maureen opened her mouth to speak, the guilt overwhelming him. “I brought this on you. If I hadn’t-” 

“Stiles,” Maureen interrupted, placing a calming hand on his arm. “This isn’t your fault. Do you hear me?” She gripped his chin gently, forcing him to meet her eyes, and not releasing him until he nodded. “Good” She nodded firmly. “Now, get your _‘uskiyazi_ and get down into the tunnels with Charlie.”

“No,” Stiles protested. “I can help you. Maureen, you need me” he insisted.

“No, _buye’_ ,” She flashed her eyes again. “Your priority must be those babies of yours. But any assistance you can provide us from your position in the tunnels would be greatly appreciated.”

Stiles nodded reluctantly.

“Good” she nodded once more with finality, meeting his eyes one last time, before turning once again to her remaining pack members as Stiles took off up the stairs.

\-----

He entered the kids’ room at a run, his heart in his throat as he noticed the empty bed before turning to find his two babies sleeping peacefully in his son’s bed. He knelt down and began to shake them awake. “Laura, Aiden, wake up” he spoke quickly, trying to keep his voice calm and his heartbeat steady.

“Papa?” Laura blinked sleepily at him. 

“Wake up, baby.” He said, keeping his voice low. 

“What’s going on, Papa?” Aiden asked.

“Come on kiddo, you gotta get up.” He said as he began to collect their go-bags from the closet where they were hidden. 

“Do you remember what we talked about? About what to do if someone came for us?” He asked, moving quickly but calmly to help Aiden dress.

“Is it time, Papa?” Laura asked, starting to get dressed herself.

“Yea, baby, it’s time” He replied. He helped Aiden put on his backpack and then turned to start tying Laura’s shoes before helping her put her own backpack on.

“Papa has to go get something but I’m going to be right back. Stay here and hide in the closet until I get back ok?” he said, waiting until Laura took Aiden’s hand and headed for the closet before taking off up the stairs to his own room and grabbing his bag. As he did he started to hear the distant sounds of fighting, howls erupting one after another and lifting the hair on his arms with their intensity. He ran across the hall and grabbed Charlie’s bag as well before running back down to the twins’ room. 

“Laura, Aiden, come on” he said, yanking the closet door open to the frightened faces of his two children. “Take my hand babies,” he said, hoisting his and Charlie’s bags higher on his shoulders and taking their two little hands in his. He glanced out into the hallway before leading them down the hall and to the stairs.

A loud splintering crack sounded from the front foyer, followed by an ear-splitting howl, and Stiles grabbed up his two kids and ran down, down, down, his heart beating frantically, into the basement. He kept running, down the hallway which led to the tunnels, and past Charlie, who followed him, quickly barring the huge steel door behind him. 

He turned and dropped to his knees, sagging against the wall of the tunnel and setting the twins down, rubbing his hands up and down their backs comfortingly before turning to face the door.

“Stiles! What’s going on up there? What’s happening?” Charlie asked as she finished securing the last of six metal braces against the reinforced steel door. 

“They’ve breached the door, Charlie” he gasped out, raising his arms, and his eyes started to spark, as he began to push his magic out, under the door to search for the rest of the pack. “I’ll see what I can find out-” he began, just as a thundering boom came against the tunnel door. 

“Stiles” Charlie whispered. “Something’s wrong, something..” Charlie screamed, bending over in pain before she looked up at him, fear clear in her eyes before they flashed Alpha red. 

“Charlie,” Stiles reached for her, “Charlie, I’m-” Another boom came against the door, a dent forming in the reinforced steel. 

“Go, Stiles.” Charlie straightened, turning to face the door, shifting into her Beta form as yet another boom resonated through the tunnel. 

“Charlie-” Stiles argued, fear choking him.

“STILES.”Charlie’s voice echoed through the tunnel with newfound Alpha power. “RUN.” She roared as Stiles turned, pushing the twins ahead of him and leaving his best friend behind as they ran into the darkness. A hundred yards down the tunnel and another echoing boom sounded, then another, and another, the blows coming in quick succession now. 

“Keep running, ok kids?” He whispered to the twins, knowing their werewolf hearing meant they could hear him even at that volume. “No matter what happens, or what you hear, keep running” he whispered into the darkness. 

They finally reached the end of the tunnel and stopped, panting. Another boom echoed down the tunnel toward them, followed by a horrible screeching crash and the unmistakable sounds of fighting. Stiles felt a sharp jolt of fear, and clenched his fists tightly, panting as he struggled to remain calm. 

“Ok babies, listen, Papa is going to go up and make sure it’s safe. Stay here and stay together” he told them, heading up the ladder. He opened the hatch as quietly as possible, and cast his magic out, searching for threats. Finding none, he jumped up, moving to uncover the sedan hidden in the brush before running back to the tunnel hatch.

“C’mon babies, up, quick as you can” he whispered down into the darkness.

Laura scrambled up the ladder rungs first, and Stiles helped pull her up onto the ground, before turning back to the tunnel. “Aiden, c’mon buddy” he whispered down into the tunnel, getting only a quiet whimper in return. “Aiden, kiddo, c’mon” he whispered, voice straining.

“I’m scawed, Papa” came the tiny voice of his son in the darkness. “I know buddy, but you can do this. I’m right here.” Stiles held his breath before finally hearing his son make his way tentatively up the ladder, reaching in to grab him as he came into view. 

Just as he turned to set him on the ground, he heard a tiny growl followed by a yelp, and turned to see his little Laura clawing at an alpha werewolf as he tried to carry her off. Stiles felt his heart stop, and ran forward, blasting the werewolf with a burst of magic, forcing him to release his daughter, who was bleeding through her pink princess shirt. In his rage, he saw red, and lifted the man into the air, the force of his magic leaving him suspended. The Were lashed out, the claws of one hand slicing into Stiles’ side, but Stiles held firm, using his magic to hold the man immobile with one hand as he used the other to rip out his throat. 

Stiles released the man and without another thought turned, running to Laura to inspect her wounds. Four deep punctures went clean through her side, and she was unconscious, but Stiles tried not to panic, knowing she would be fine once her healing kicked in.

“You’re going to be ok, baby” he whispered to her shakily. He picked her up carefully, and ran to the car, Aiden clutching tightly to his leg. He set her gently in the back seat, buckled her in and then turned to do the same to Aiden, before climbing into the front seat, tossing their bags in the passenger seat, turning the key and flooring it down the hidden trail to the access road, heading south as fast as possible.

\-----

**_Current Day…_ **

Stiles felt his heart rate begin to climb as he passed the Beacon Hills city limit sign. “Papa,” he heard Aiden’s voice filter up from the backseat. “What’s up, buddy?” he asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at his son’s worried face. “Is Lawa going to be ok?” Aiden asked, his voice wobbling.

“Yea, buddy, she is gonna be fine” Stiles responded.

“Then how come she won’t wake up, Papa?” Aiden asked. Stiles sighed.

“Her body is healing, buddy. That takes a lot of energy, and it means Laura is very tired. She’ll wake up when her body is ready. But I promise she is going to be just fine, ok?” Stiles glanced back again to see Aiden brushing the hair out of his sister’s face with his small hand and smiled to himself. His boy had such a gentle soul.

“Otay, Papa.” Aiden responded, holding his sister’s limp hand tightly between his own.

“Aiden, listen to me” Stiles began in his serious voice, as he turned onto the road that led into the preserve, his heart beating frantically and adrenaline spiking, “We are almost there. When we get there I want you to stay in the car and watch over Laura, ok?” he said.

“I’m scawed, Papa,” his little boy whimpered, his anxiety amplified by what he sensed in Stiles’ own heart rate and scent.

“It’s going to be ok, Aiden,” Stiles spoke evenly and calmly. “These people are old friends of Papa’s. But we have come into their territory unexpectedly and uninvited, and they are probably going to be defensive. Just like Aunt Charlie’s pack was whenever visitors came, remember?” He met his son’s eyes in the rearview mirror and saw him nod.

“So until I get things sorted out with their Alpha, I want you to stay in the car, and watch over your sister.” He said. “Can you do that? Can you be my brave boy and protect Laura for me?” He saw his son’s nod and heard his little voice,

“Otay, Papa. I will pwotect Lawa. I pwomise”. Stiles turned and smiled at him “That's my boy.”

Stiles turned forward and slowed the car’s speed, using the extra time provided to push his magic out through the trees on either side, trying to get an idea of what might be waiting at the end of the drive. He could sense at least a dozen in the house, and several more running at speed from further away. So they knew they had company. Another mage? Or perhaps a druid?

As he turned the bend in the road, and the house came into view, he sharpened his senses to see that there were several figures assembling on and around the porch. He took the last few seconds before arrival to double-check his personal shield and the one around the car which would protect his children, to ensure that they were hidden. He didn’t want anyone catching them unawares. The fact that it hid his scent and heart beat, masking his identity from the werewolves outside for a few additional moments, was just a bonus. He parked about a hundred meters back from the house, choosing to walk the rest of the way, putting a little more distance between his kids and whatever was about to go down.

Stiles took three deep breaths, turned to Aiden and said “Stay in the car. Look after your sister. I love you.” before he stepped out of the car to face the pack he had left behind four years ago. 

\-----

As he walked forward down the drive, Stiles checked to ensure his jacket hid the wound in his side, not wanting to appear weak.

Suddenly he felt a presence brush against his shield, and swept his magic out from his body in response, before feeling the foreign entity retract swiftly and a quiet gasp, followed by a mumble, come from the porch. Stiles sent his magic further, sharpening his hearing and heard a feminine voice repeating “It can’t be” over and over again.

Stiles would know that voice anywhere. It used to occupy his daydreams, and now it was the sound of his conscience. Stiles reached out with his mind and brushed against the woman’s barrier, projecting a single thought like an arrow through her mental shield. _“Hey Lyds”_ he sent.

“Oh my god” she sobbed, and stumbled off the porch, heedless of the arms trying to stop her, and tripping in her heels. Stiles stopped fifty feet from the front porch, and caught the young woman as she ran into his arms. Stiles hugged her fiercely and felt tears prick his eyes as the familiar scent of strawberries filled his nose.

“You’re alive” she sobbed, clutching him so tightly he felt his ribs might crack. “Oh my god. _Stiles_. I can’t believe it,” she cried, finally loosening her hold, only to clutch at his shoulders, and then his neck, running her hands over him, as if to assure herself that he was real.

“Yeah, Lyds, it’s me.” he murmured, swallowing the lump in his throat. He took her hand in his, kissing her palm before placing it against his heart. Feeling overwhelmed, and vulnerable, he sent _“I’m real, Lydia. I promise,”_ zinging through her mental barrier. Her eyes widened. 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles turned, Lydia’s hand in his giving him courage, and faced the man who he had loved more fiercely than anyone in his life (before the twins were born, anyway). He squared his shoulders, released a shaky breath, and spoke the formal words he had memorized for just such an occasion.

“Derek Hale, Alpha of Beacon Hills Territory. I, Mieczyslaw Stilinski, of the Wet’suwet’en First Nation Pack, formally request sanctuary and safe passage for myself and two cubs. In return I swear that we will take no action which would endanger the livelihood of the Beacon Hills Pack, or expose Were kind. Further, I offer in recompense for your protection, my skills, such as they are, in aid of the Beacon Hills Pack, should they ever have need of them.” He paused, his heart beating painfully in his chest and his breath coming in sharp pants, finally looking up to meet his former love’s eyes.

Derek looked frozen in shock. “Stiles” his voice was hoarse, and cracked as if from disuse.

Stiles opened his mouth, but before he could think of a response, a roar echoed through the clearing and four werewolves came charging out of the trees. They took one look at Lydia, whose hand was clenched tightly in Stiles’ grip, and immediately jumped into action, leaping through the air towards Stiles.

Stiles reacted immediately, dropping Lydia’s hand and raising both his own, feeling the power sparking in his palms as his magic burst out of his fingertips out towards the nearest wolf, catching it mid-air and flinging it against the nearest tree. The second wolf stopped several feet away, and before either of them could make a move, Stiles saw, from the corner of his eye, a tiny figure catapult himself in front of the Were.

Panic flared in Stiles chest, “AIDEN, NO!” he yelled, at his three year old son, who was currently wolfed out and emitting tiny growls at the fully grown Werewolf in front of him. Magic exploded from Stiles’ hands uncontrolled, expanding his shield and creating a physical glowing barrier around his son.

“AIDEN” Stiles yelled again, his hands shaking, desperately struggling to control his magic, while fighting his fear for his son. Stiles breathed deeply.

“AIDEN ALEXANDER STILINSKI” Stiles’ voice boomed with power, his magic once again under control. The swirling golden sphere around his son disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, giving him an unobstructed view of his son. Aiden cowered, turning to bare his neck for his father.

“I told you to stay in the car.” Stiles’ voice was stern, his eyes only for his son. “I’m sowwy Papa.” his son hung his head, his tiny fangs catching on his t-shirt.

Then his nose twitched and his head snapped up and to the right, staring at one of the werewolves who had just come into the clearing. His nose twitched again, before he shifted, his sweet little boy’s green eyes suddenly visible again and shining excitedly as he ran at the unsupposing Were.

“Uncle Scott, Uncle Scott!” he yelled excitedly, before jumping to enthusiastically climb up his legs and into his arms. 

Scott shifted in shock, sheathing his own claws, as his arms were suddenly full of elated toddler.

“Uncle Scott” Scott whispered to himself, dazed, as Aiden grasped his cheeks in his two small hands and began rubbing his own small jaw against Scott’s. 

“AIDEN” Stiles spoke firmly once again, letting some of that same power bleed into his voice. His son froze.

“What have I said about scenting other people without permission?” He asked, no room for arguments in his voice. Aiden hung his head once again.

“It’s wude” he mumbled, his voice wobbling as he slunk down from Scott’s hold and back over to his father.

“But it’s Uncle Scott, Papa,” he said, turning his gaze up and making big puppy eyes at him.

“I wouldna done it if it wewen’t Uncle Sco--” his voice cut off abruptly, his attention once more diverted, this time back in the direction of the car. Stiles knew that look, and turned in the same direction as his son.

“What is it, Aiden” he asked.

“Lawa,” Aiden responded. “She’s awake.” Stiles glanced down at his son, and then at the werewolves quietly observing their exchange, torn. He didn’t believe they were a threat but he was also unwilling to leave his son surrounded by strange Weres.

_“Don’t worry.”_ Lydia’s voice sounded clear as a bell in his head, as she walked over to them. “ _I’ll look after him.”_ Her green eyes met his steadily and after a few searching moments he nodded once, before turning to sprint back to the car, hearing Lydia kneel down next to Aiden and ask softly “So what is your name?” 

Getting to the car in record time, he flung open the back door to find his sweet baby girl blinking blearily at him.

“Papa?” she asked hesitantly. “Yea, baby, I’m here.” he responded, feeling relief soar through him, tears once again pricking at his eyes, at the sound of his girl’s voice.

“What’s wrong, Papa?” Laura asked. “Why are you crying?” her voice started to waver.

“Nothing’s wrong, baby. I’m ok. You really scared me there” he spoke gently, trying to soothe her. “Papa’s gonna take a look at your stomach, ok baby girl? Just hold still for a minute” Stiles lifted up Laura’s shirt and saw four marks with pink new skin where previously there had been punctures, and felt another sense of relief flow through him as he gently lowered his daughter’s shirt once more, rubbing her tummy soothingly. “Good girl, Laura.”

Laura looked around and whined sadly. “Where’s Aiden, Papa?” she asked, tearfully.

“He’s just down the road, Laura. We’re going to see him right now. Do you want to walk, or do you want me to carry you? He asked.

“Will you carry me, Papa?” she asked, her own green eyes, identical to those of her brothers’ making their own puppy dog impression.

“Of course, baby. C’mon, up you go” he said as he hoisted his little girl into his arms. His heart squeezed painfully as she snuggled into him, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck, far too aware of what he almost lost less than 24 hours before. 

Stiles turned back to the assembled party at the house, suddenly aware that his conversation with his daughter was not quite as private as he had believed. Derek, in particular, seemed particularly interested in the proceedings, his eyes tracking them as Stiles made his way slowly back to Lydia’s side, Laura held tightly in his arms, head buried in his neck and scenting him fiercely. A few meters away, Laura let out a small whine and Aiden abruptly cut off his conversation with Lydia about his favorite superhero (Papa, because he is magic of course, although apparently Wonder Woman is a close second) and ran up to them, his little brow furrowing in concern.

“Lawa, Lawa, awe you otay, Lawa?” he asked, looking up at his sister worriedly. Laura turned and made grabby hands at Aiden, so when Stiles finally reached Lydia, he knelt down, resting her on his knee, so she could reach her twin. Aiden hugged her tightly, and began petting her hair, making tiny soothing growls at her as she whined pitifully and switched from scenting Stiles’ neck to Aiden’s. Stiles ran his hand over her back, rubbing circles into her skin to scent her as well, until she finally went quiet.

“It’s otay, Lawa.” Aiden said softly, continuing to pet his sister’s hair. “I know what will make you feel bettuh” he told her confidently, excitement leaking into his voice. Laura sniffed and looked up at her brother. “Uncle Scott is hewe” Aiden blurted out excitedly.

“Uncle Scott” Laura repeated in a wobbly voice. “Yea, he’s hewe, Lawa, and he smells just like Papa said” he continued, now nearly vibrating with excitement.

Stiles looked up, searching their audience for his former best friend and meeting his gaze with a beseeching look. Scott, to his credit, seemed to understand, and stepped forward to crouch down in front of his two children.

“Hi...Laura,” he said, voice and eyes warm, if a little hesitant. Laura took a deep sniff and made to pounce, holding herself back at the last second and glancing at her father before turning back to Scott.

“Can I, Uncle Scott, can I?” she asked, all hopeful puppy dog eyes, making grabby hands at his neck. Scott laughed and had time only to nod, before she vaulted herself into his arms and began scenting him vigorously. Stiles laughed, meeting Scott’s eyes, hoping his gratitude was evident.

“Well at least she tried?” Scott remarked questioningly. Stiles rolled his eyes, noticing that Aiden was now making puppy dog eyes at Lydia, attempting to get the same treatment and being hauled into her arms in short order. 

His two children now being held by his two former best friends, he looked up once again to his former love and Alpha, who had yet to respond to his request and had been watching the proceedings with an increasingly impassive expression. Stiles felt the weight of a decision not yet made settle firmly back upon his shoulders and the merriment of the last few minutes faded from his face as he regarded Derek warily. His trepidation grew, and with it, silence once again fell, his children’s happy chattering falling away as they scented the change in his mood. 

Stiles flexed his hands and straightened once again. 

“Alpha Hale-” he began, once again.

“We thought you were dead” The words were low and tense, Derek’s face emotionless.

“No,” Stiles responded evenly. “Not yet.” Stiles fought to control his breathing.

“We buried you.” Derek’s eyes glittered in the glow of the porch light, his expression unreadable. “Scott, Boyd, Isaac and I carried your empty coffin” Derek continued. 

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Stiles' breath came quicker, but he kept his tone even, determined not to break.

“Four years, Stiles.” Derek’s eyes began to flicker red. “Four years and you never once bothered to reach out to anyone to tell them you were alive. Not Lydia. Not Scott, your supposed best friend. Not even your own father. Your death nearly killed him, Stiles.” Derek’s voice had gradually picked up in volume. “Do you even care?” Derek growled out, voice now distorted around fangs. Stiles could tell he was really on a roll now, and he needed to head this off before the conversation really went off the rails.

“DEREK” Stiles interrupted, letting his voice resonate with his magic. “I am sorry. I know I owe you an explanation, at the very least, and I promise that you will get one. All I can ask is that for the sake of the Stiles you knew, please, trust me when I say I had my reasons.” Stiles kept his eyes locked with Derek’s, refusing to break eye contact, willing the other man to read the sincerity in the steadiness of his heart beat.

The silence stretched. It was Derek who finally looked away, his hands clenched into fists, his fangs retracting, as he finally nodded. A breath he didn’t know he had been holding, finally released, Stiles swallowed and began again.

“Now, before all this excitement, I made a formal request for sanctuary. Do I need to repeat it? Or does it stand?” Stiles felt some of the tension in his shoulders bleed out. This was comfortable ground for him, inter-pack negotiations being Stiles’ primary role within Charlie's pack.

Derek clenched his teeth before responding brusquely, “It stands.” 

“What formal request?” Stiles heard Scott whisper behind him, before Lydia promptly shushed him. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“And what say you?” he asked Derek. Derek’s eyes bore into him, before moving behind him to his children. Stiles felt his heart skip a beat as the Alpha examined his two cubs, desperately hoping the Alpha didn’t notice just _how_ similar their eyes were to his own unique mercurial shade, and the Alpha’s eyes flickered back to Stiles at the change.

“You seek sanctuary for yourself and two cubs, you said.” Derek’s voice questioned, his eyes drifting back to the two small children being held by his two pack mates.

“Yes” Stiles responded. 

“And the cubs are…?” Derek’s voice trailed off questioningly, his eyes still trained on two small sets of green eyes.

“My children” Stiles responded evenly, gesturing to the two small raven haired fiends he loved most in the world. “My daughter, Laura Elizabeth Stilinski, and my son, Aiden Alexander Stilinski” Something flickered in Derek’s gaze at hearing his daughter’s name, and Stiles rejoiced at the small flicker of emotion while cursing the secret hidden behind his daughter’s name. 

“...Laura?” Derek questioned haltingly.

“Yes” Stiles responded simply, hoping that Derek wouldn’t push any further. He wasn’t prepared to face that particular round of questioning just yet. Derek opened his mouth once again, but someone, Boyd, Stiles was astonished to see, coughed lightly behind him, and he closed it again, thinking for a moment before clearing his throat once more and saying,

“You come representing the Wet’suwet’en First Nation Pack...out of Canada?” he asked, and again, Stiles responded “Yes.”

Sensing the Alpha’s annoyance at his non-answer, Stiles added helpfully “Out of British Columbia. Located on the Burns Lake Indian Reserve.” Derek nodded.

“And where is the rest of your...pack?” Derek asked, hesitation clear on the word pack, and gaze once again fixated on Stiles. Stiles felt his gaze falter for the first time, grief overwhelming him momentarily and making him sway slightly. 

“Dead” Stiles choked out, staring at the ground in front of him. “We are the last” he continued, voice breaking on the final word. Stiles breathed deeply, fighting to get his emotions under control, before once again meeting the Alpha’s eyes.

“I’m sorry for your loss” Derek said, and his voice, while still firm, had lost it’s sharp edge, his eyes echoing an old sadness. Derek hesitated, before looking around at his pack, and nodding slightly once more.

“You and your cubs are granted sanctuary here, for as long as you desire it” His voice suddenly echoed with Alpha power. “The terms shall be as agreed” he said, moving forward.

Stiles knew what came next, and held out his own hand to shake. Still, he was unprepared for the spark of electricity he felt shoot up his arm when his skin made contact with Derek’s, the zing echoing up his arm and tickling something in the back of his brain. Stiles let go, stepping back quickly and avoiding the Alpha’s questioning eyes.

“Come,” Derek gestured, turning to the house, “You must be exhausted from your journey.” He began walking up the steps, Stiles now trailing behind him.

“Isaac will show you to your rooms,” he gestured to the man, ignoring Isaac’s furious, and frankly, obvious, attempts to convey his displeasure with the assignment, while continuing his steps forward, his back now firmly turned to Stiles.

“Rest, and in the morning we will talk further.” Derek finished, before walking off around the side of the house, Boyd and Cora trailing after him, silent as shadows. 

\-----

Stiles followed Isaac inside, trying desperately not to think of the last time he had been in this house. ‘ _Keep it together, Stilinski,’_ he told himself firmly.

Isaac led him downstairs instead of up, to a finished basement level, complete with a kitchen and living room, three bedrooms, and two bathrooms. The last time he had been down here, the frame had been exposed, the design plans a mere fantasy in Stiles mind, of a space to house visiting packs so the pack could keep an eye on them while maintaining a comfortable distance from their own sleeping quarters. Stiles turned from his perusal of the space to find Isaac, Scott and Lydia, the last two of whom still held his kids, watching him intently. 

“I like what you’ve done with the space” he remarked awkwardly, trying to break the ice.

Isaac glared. “We weren’t expecting company. I apologize for the inconvenience, but you will have to take your meals with the pack until someone can make a grocery run.” Stiles noticed the hardness in Isaac’s voice and heaved a mental sigh. Isaac had never been his biggest fan, and no doubt would not easily forgive Stiles for what many wolves would categorize a betrayal, switching packs as he appeared to have done.

“If there is anything you need, you have only to ask” Isaac continued, formally, before turning on his heel as if to return upstairs. 

“Uh, actually-” Stiles began quickly. Isaac paused. “I left our bags in the car. Would it -”

“I’ll get them” Isaac cut him off rudely, before continuing up.

“Wait-” Stiles called out, stopping Isaac in his tracks once again. He hesitated. He really needed to clean his wounds, but he didn’t want to parade around the fact that he was injured. Stiles heaved another mental sigh.

_Better than getting an infection, I suppose._

Mind made up, he nodded.

“There’s a first aid kit in the back. Would you mind grabbing that as well?” Three sets of eyes flashed to his face, and he could feel them examining him closely.

“You’re hurt?” Scott asked, concern radiating in his voice as he set a dozing Laura down on the couch. Stiles gave it up as a lost cause, removing his jacket to reveal the blood soaking through his white t-shirt where the Were who had grabbed Laura the night before had gotten a hit in before Stiles killed him.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, Scotty,” Stiles said, as Scott made his way over to him, both Isaac and Lydia looking on intensely.

“Off” Scott demanded, reaching for the hem of Stiles’ shirt.

“Hey!” Stiles pulled back, out of his reach “I can take care of it, I just need the first aid kit.”

Scott’s expression turned steely, and he turned to Lydia, ignoring Stiles and saying “Get my bag Lydia.” Lydia deposited a sleeping Aiden on the couch next to his sister and rushed up the stairs. Scott turned back to push Stiles at the kitchen counter. “Sit” he commanded.

“Ok, ok, jeez. Pushy” Stiles mumbled, hopping up. Scott bared his teeth in response and reached for his shirt again but Stiles beat him to it, sweeping his shirt up and off before he could be manhandled again. Scott leaned over to examine the deep gouge marks in his side, which had begun bleeding freely again in the excitement since their arrival. Lydia swept back down the stairs in a rush, heels clacking loudly on the stairs, followed closely by Erica and Jackson, of all people.

“Lydia said you were hurt?” Erica questioned, entering the room, and hovering next to Isaac. Jackson stayed by the stairs, face watchful. Stiles opened his mouth to reply but was beaten to the punch by Scott, who had taken a medical bag from Lydia and begun pulling antiseptic and gauze out.

“They’re deep, but not too bad. They will require stitches though” He said, looking up at Stiles.

“And when did you become the pack doctor?” Stiles asked Scott, sarcasm heavy in his tone.

“When I became a Veterinarian” Scott responded tersely.

“No shit” Stiles asked in astonishment, a smile edging onto his face, all kidding forgotten.

“Uh, yeah,” Scott responded hesitantly, eyes on his work as he began to sew Stiles’ wounds closed. “Graduated last year. Took over Deaton’s practice a few months ago” he added.

Stiles grinned in delight at his friend. “That’s great, man. Good for you.” Stiles’ eyes shone with happiness for his friend. “I’m proud of you, dude. I always knew you could do it” he told Scott, squeezing his shoulder warmly.

Scott’s shoulders relaxed and he looked up to meet Stiles eyes’ shyly, smiling at the genuine affection on his friend’s face. “Yeah?” he asked questioningly, eyes locked with Stiles.

“Yeah” Stiles confirmed, smiling gently again down at the man who, to him, would always be his brother. Scott’s smile grew, and he turned back to his work, tying off the final suture and securing a bandage over the area.

“All done” he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

“See, what’d I tell ya?” Stiles asked confidently. “Just a flesh wound.” he continued, sliding down from the counter to lean back against it.

“Not like I haven’t had worse” he added, only then realizing that the truth of that statement was more than evident, with his bare torso now on display. Stiles cursed silently as he once again felt the weight of eyes, five sets now instead of three, mapping each and every mark on his skin.

Stiles tried not to react to the blatant examination, wondering what his former pack made of his various scars, not to mention his tattoos, which formed intricate geometric patterns in a full sleeve down his right arm and half of his left, the focal point of which was a large geometric wolf head covering the entirety of his right shoulder. Stiles supposed he should be feeling grateful they couldn't see his back, which was littered with what were clearly werewolf bite marks, as well as a full back tattoo in the same geometric style as his sleeves, depicting the image of a tree in bloom beneath a full moon, but all he felt was exposed. He tried to think of something to say, but before he could, Lydia reached out and traced the long ropey scar which traversed his entire abdomen from left to right. Stiles started in shock, and flinched violently at the sudden contact.

“Sorry” she whispered, pulling her hand back guiltily.

“It’s fine,” Stiles responded lightly, not meeting her eyes. He crossed his arms reflexively.

Stiles knew what they must be thinking, seeing a scar like that. That someone ( _read: hunters_ ) had tried to cut Stiles in half. That was partly true, he supposed. Although in his case, the cause had been to give life, rather than end it. He glanced at the couch and the two sleeping toddlers now curled around each other.

“Isaac, any chance I could grab those bags now?” He asked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice but wanting fervently to get away from the intensity of their inspection. He looked up to see Isaac nod mutely, and he turned ( _goddamn it now they’ve seen his back_ ) to pick up his jacket, pulling it on and buttoning it quickly to hide his body.

Feeling somewhat more settled, Stiles turned back to face the others, noticing the worried looks being exchanged silently between the group. Pretending not to notice, Stiles clapped his hands, rubbing them together nervously. "Right. Isaac, shall we?"

Motioning for Isaac to lead the way, and with a last look at his babies asleep on the couch, Stiles turned and made his way upstairs. 

\-----

When Stiles returned, bags in hand, it was to see that only Scott and Lydia remained. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. He walked over and collapsed in the arm chair, resting his head in his hands and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

A throat clearing got his attention and he looked up to find Lydia studying him, a dangerous look in her eye.

“So?” She asked, crossing her arms and looking murderous. Stiles waited, but when nothing else was forthcoming he repeated “So...what?” he asked.

Lydia huffed. “So I think you owe us some answers, Stiles” Lydia said, eyes determined.

“Lydia,” Stiles sighed, his voice taking on a defeated tone. “I promise, I will answer whatever questions you may have. But I just lost my pack, I’ve been driving for almost 24 hours straight, and I haven’t slept in over two days. Please, I am begging you. I need some time” he lowered his shield just enough so that his scent and heart beat were clearly visible to those with the ability to interpret them _(which, based on the wards he saw, and Lydia’s ability to mind-speak, she should be)_.

Lydia studied his face closely, apparently finding what she was looking for. Her eyes softened, and she nodded. She brushed her hand through his hair, and Stiles let himself take comfort in it, grabbing her hand and holding her palm against his cheek, until she sighed and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead, releasing him and leaving him alone with Scott.

Stiles looked up at his friend, who had watched his exchange with the redhead silently and now stood shuffling his feet awkwardly like the gangly teen he used to be. Stiles stood to approach his friend and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Scott-” he started, before he was wrapped up in a hug so tight he worried he might pop the stitches which the other man had so painstakingly applied earlier. “Scott, I-” Stiles choked out, tears coming to his eyes now. “I’m so sorry Scott” he cried, letting the tears flow, for once not caring who might be listening, and dropping his guard completely.

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you, Scott. Every day I wanted to tell you. I’m so sorry” He sobbed into Scott’s shirt, his arms like a vice around him.

“Why didn’t you?” Scott’s voice was equally wobbly, and Stiles realized his friend was crying as well. “I thought you were dead Stiles.” Scott continued, his voice muffled from where he had pressed his face against Stiles’ neck _(scenting him, he realized, belatedly)_.

“I’m sorry Scott” Stiles repeated sadly, sniffling. “I couldn’t.”

Scott made a sound of protest, and started to pull away, but Stiles held firm. “I know how it sounds, Scott. I do. But I _couldn’t_ ” Stiles reiterated, barely resisting the urge to shake his friend with the desperate need he felt for Scott to just _believe_ him.

Scott pulled back once again, despite Stiles protests, and looked his friend in the eye, reading some of that desperation in his scent.

“Ok, Stiles” Scott acquiesced. “I believe you,” he said, gripping his friend tightly once again.

Stiles felt another tear leak out of his eye as he felt himself sag with relief. “I really missed you, buddy” Stiles whispered wetly against Scott’s neck.

Scott sniffled into his neck, grip tightening slightly around him. “I really missed you too,” he whispered back. 

\-----

Once Scott had finally left, Stiles began the process of adding wards to the Hale House. He couldn't ward the entire territory without visiting the territory line in person, but he could strengthen the wards surrounding the house and build in additional wards around the room where he and the twins would be sleeping.

He then carried the twins one by one into what looked to be the master bedroom, removing their shoes and depositing them into the king size bed, before removing his shirt, shoes, and jeans and climbing in beside them, too exhausted for anything more.

As Stiles lay in the darkness, waiting for sleep to claim him, the familiar scent of Derek's laundry detergent filled his nose, and he couldn’t help but let the memories he had pushed back earlier envelop him...

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for North Carrier Language used in this fic:  
> Suzki - my child  
> 'uskiyazi - little ones  
> buye’ - my son
> 
> If you would like to see inspiration pics for Stiles' tattoos let me know!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Artwork-Stiles Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for your kind words! I didn't have my notifications set up so I didn't see I had comments, but I appreciate all the love this fic has gotten. I definitely plan to continue now and will hopefully have another chapter up in the next week or so.

In the meantime, here are the inspiration pics for Stiles' tattoos. I am not an artist, so unless someone wants to create artwork from these images, this is the best I can do. As you can see, my preferences trend towards delicate, geometric tattoos with slight indigenous influence. I realize some of these pics are of women, but hey, Stiles could totally rock them. Plus I really like the contrast of a powerful character having intricate designs. 

__________

**FULL SLEEVE IDEAS**

__________

**GEOMETRIC WOLF HEAD IDEAS**

__________

**HALF SLEEVE IDEAS**

__________

** TREE BACK TATTOO IDEAS **

I will update with actual chapters soon! 


	3. Chapter 2 (Stiles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Stiles lay in the darkness, waiting for sleep to claim him, the familiar scent of Derek's laundry detergent filled his nose, and he couldn’t help but let the memories he had pushed back earlier envelop him...

**_January, four years ago…_ **

The drive up to the house was especially jarring as Stiles made his way up the long slope in the Jeep, the worn out shocks making the vehicle nearly unmanageable. He would be glad when Derek finally finished the interior and could start on some landscaping because the first thing he’s going to request is a paved road. Putting the Jeep in park, Stiles cut the engine, the sudden silence near deafening after the roar of the ignition. He hesitates for a second, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as his heart rate spikes, trying to prolong the conversation that is about to happen. He’s still not entirely sure he’s made the right decision, but his dad’s words ring in his ears and he knows that he doesn’t have a choice, not if he wants this to last. He sighs. Best to get it over quickly then, like ripping a band-aid off, he decides. Mind made up, he hops out of the Jeep into the brisk winter morning, slamming it shut and making his way reluctantly to the front door. As he walks up, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together to ward off the cold, he notices the house isn’t just silent, it’s still. There’s not a hint of the usual circus which seems to surround the pack twenty-four/seven and the hair on the back of his neck prickles. This is not a good sign. Up the steps, Stiles reaches for the screen door, pulling it open and stepping cautiously inside, glancing around for signs of life, and wincing as the screen door slams behind him before he can catch it. 

“Derek?” Stiles calls out cautiously as he moves through the house. 

“In here”, the response comes from the kitchen. Stiles makes his way in that direction, taking a deep breath as he goes to try and steady his nerves. As he turns the corner into the expansive kitchen he sees Derek sitting at the kitchen table, positioned on the far bench, and framed by the massive bay window. 

“Hey”, Stiles starts, nervous already.

“Hey”, Derek parrots softly, eyes meeting Stiles' briefly, before looking away guiltily. “I thought we might…?” He trails off, gesturing at the two mugs of steaming tea on the table before him.

Stiles’ face must have conveyed some of the confusion he was feeling, because Derek continued as if Stiles had spoken it aloud, “I heard you coming. I know we need to talk and I...I didn’t want it to end up like last time,” his face flashed with regret and guilt as he referenced their screaming match from three days prior, when Stiles had walked out. 

Stiles felt a corresponding wave of guilt wash over him and his determination wavered slightly. Neither of them say anything for several minutes, watching as the sun rises to drench the kitchen with shades of purple, pink, and gold. The hiss of the radiator turning on fills the silence, but Stiles can't stand it anymore. He's tired, the stress of the past few days and the adrenaline pumping through his veins combining to make him a jittery mess. He decides there’s no reason to beat around the bush. And honestly, the longer he puts it off, the more likely it is he will lose his nerve. 

_‘Deep breaths, Stiles. You can do this.’_

"Stiles, I'm sor—" Derek starts to say, but Stiles interrupts.

“I need a break, Derek” Stiles’ voice is firm, decisive. 

“Oh...uh...Okay..” Derek’s voice is uncertain, the conversation clearly not going in the direction he had anticipated. “I understand. We can do that. You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately and I can understand if you’re feeling overwhelmed, especially with your last semester at Berkeley coming up. If you need to take a break from pack business, I can make it happen.” Derek’s voice is conciliatory, his tone approaching soothing.

"No, Derek, that’s not-” Stiles took a deep breath, his fists clenched tight and nails biting into his palms beneath the table. 

_‘You can do this, you can do this, you can do this.’_

“That’s not what I meant,” Stiles continued.

Derek’s confusion grew with every word. “What _do_ you mean then?” he asked.

“I mean I need a break from...from _us_. _You_ and _me_.” Stiles lowered his gaze from Derek’s to the table top, his eyes tracing a whorl in the wood grain, afraid to see the reaction on Derek’s face but aware of how the man’s body had gone completely still with Stiles’ declaration. 

“I don’t...understand,” Derek’s voice was calm, steady even. It gave Stiles the courage to look up. The Alpha’s expression was tense, guarded, but Stiles knew Derek well enough to catch the flash of hurt before he quickly quashed it. 

“Why” Derek demanded, eyes now glued to the same spot on the table that Stiles' had just been. 

“The fact that you have to ask me that is part of the reason,” Stiles couldn’t help the bitterness as it seeped into his tone. 

“What does that even _mean_ ” Derek growled, anger quickly replacing the hurt in his expression as his eyes began to flicker between Alpha red and human green.

“It means,” Stiles said, fighting to keep his composure, “that I’m supposed to be your boyfriend. Your mate, someday. And this past week, after everything that happened with the Juarez pack visit… I’m not sure that’s a position I want anymore” Stiles finished, meeting Derek’s gaze once more. 

“The Juarez pack?" Derek questioned, confusion evident. "Stiles, look, I’m sorry you felt neglected, but-” Derek began. 

“Neglected? Neglected, Derek, really? That’s what you think?” Stiles lost his grip on his composure, indignation sharpening his tone. 

“The truth is I don’t KNOW what to think Stiles! Because you won’t talk to me! “ Derek exclaimed, frustration clear as he gripped the table tightly. “Not ten minutes after they left, I find you upstairs packing a bag and talking about staying with your dad for a few days. If something happened, if one of them did something, please I don’t...just talk to me. Did they hurt you?” Derek questioned earnestly, reaching for Stiles’ hand.

“The Juarez pack didn’t DO _anything,_ Derek. At least, not anything I wasn’t prepared for. Sure, they made their comments, about my weakness as a human and their opinion of humans as (Stiles raised his hands in quotation) _less-than_. They were very open with their opinion that I was just a convenient hole for you to wet your dick with, and made absolute certain to inform me that you would discard me like the trash I was when you tired of me.” Stiles’ eyes glittered in anger. "As if they were doing me a favor, by warning me," Stiles scoffed. “But as I said, I was prepared for that. After all, it’s not like I haven’t heard it before.” Stiles said. “What I wasn’t expecting, however, was YOU, Derek.” Stiles' voice was hard. “I didn’t expect for you to all but confirm their ideas, disregarding and dismissing me at every turn, refusing to allow me to attend pack negotiation meetings or give advice on amendments to the treaty _which I drafted,_ by the way, even laughing with them as they joked about me, what was it? Taking it like a good little bitch? Stiles laughed bitterly. “It’s funny, you know. I thought I had left all my self-confidence issues back in high school, but it turns out they just needed a good kick in the chest to resurface.” Stiles swallowed thickly, as every hurt from the past week replayed through his mind, his eyes filling with tears he thought had been long cried out. 

“Stiles, I...I’m sorry.” Derek’s face was stricken. “The Juarez pack are traditional. They have old ideas. Our pack’s position is tenuous. We need allies, and we can’t afford to be picky. I did what I thought I had to do to make sure the treaty, _your treaty_ , was a success. But I never, NEVER, meant to hurt you Stiles. You have to believe that.” Derek's tone was pleading. 

“Do I?” Stiles questioned. “You say you did what was necessary, and I understand that, to an extent, but at what cost? We’re supposed to be partners, Derek. And I have never felt more humiliated or degraded than I have this past week when you treated me as nothing more than your whore.” Stiles’ eyes began to blur with unshed tears. 

“Stiles please. I made a mistake. I know that. But I would never intentionally hurt you. I love you.” Derek begs. 

“I know you do,” Stiles sighed, the fight going out of him. “I love you too,” he responded, blinking rapidly to avoid tearing up again, and running his hands through his hair distractedly. “I’m just not sure if that's enough…..” Stiles smiled sadly. “A month ago, I felt like we were so in sync. Like that night, when I came home for winter break...I could see it so clearly, our future laid out before us, so close I could almost taste it. Now I…, I feel like that future is further away than ever” Stiles swallowed thickly, hopelessness nearly overwhelming him. 

"So that’s it? You just leave because things get tough?” Derek’s voice was rough. Stiles knew Derek was trying to sound angry but Stiles can hear the desperation in his voice, and he can't walk out letting Derek believe he's leaving forever. Stiles knows this is exactly what Derek's been waiting for ever since he and Stiles got together, for the other shoe to drop and Stiles to walk out. He doesn't want Derek to think that's what this is.

"You talk about respect, and wanting to be treated with authority, but you're not very good at it yourself," Derek grits out. "The pack is in a vulnerable position, and you’re just going to abandon us because you don't like how your Alpha does things?" Derek is barely holding back the shift now, eyes red and claws scratching grooves into the table top. 

"Derek, believe me when I say this: the most respectful thing I can do right now is put some space between us for a while. I love you. You and me, our future together. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I need some time to figure out if it’s what I really need. If I stay here, you and I both know that’s not going to happen."

Derek's lips thinned into a grim line, and he waved a dismissive hand at Stiles, gesturing him out.

"Go then." Derek's voice was harsh, angry. "If you don’t need me, if you don’t need the pack, then g-go.” Derek's voice cracked on the last word. 

Stiles stares, dumbfounded. "Derek, that’s not-." He paused, but nothing more formed in his head. He was completely blank.

"I have to admit though, I didn’t realize it would be so easy for you to walk away." Derek continued in a hard voice, and laughed bitterly. "That’s another of my mistakes, I guess" Derek continued, ignoring Stiles’ attempt to interrupt, face impassive once more.

“I…” Stiles didn’t know what to say. This conversation had gone from bad to worse. Still, he knew he was making the right decision. “Okay” Stiles said softly, rising from the table and tripping slightly, jostling the two full mugs of cold tea. “Okay” Stiles nodded to himself. “I’m going to grab my things then,” Stiles turned quickly, wanting to get away from this cold, closed off version of Derek. 

Stiles moved as quickly as he could through the house, collecting all the items he had deposited throughout the last month of his school break, determined to be done and gone before the pack returned from wherever they had disappeared to and started questioning him. As he gathered the last few items from the bedroom, and threw them into his duffel, Stiles hesitated, glancing around their shared space. He picked up the picture resting on the bedside table, of Stiles and Derek at the beach, and his heart constricted painfully. It was one of his favorite photos of them, taken the summer they had finally become something _real_. Stiles was facing the camera, his arms looped around Derek’s shoulders, laughing, while Derek gripped Stiles’ waist tightly, face turned toward him with a soft smile on his face. Stiles stroked picture-Derek’s face gently, before placing it carefully on top of his clothes and zipping his bag shut before turning and making his way down the stairs. 

Stiles hesitated by the front door, not wanting to leave things as they were. 

“I love you, Derek.” Stiles’ voice was soft, knowing Derek could hear him even from the kitchen, where he had remained, unmoved from the table. “More than anything. That’s why I have to do this. I can’t be objective where you’re concerned. I hope you can understand that. I will be back. I promise you, Derek.” Stiles voice broke, emotion overwhelming him. “I love you” he whispered, before rushing down the steps and climbing into the jeep. Stiles wiped the tears that had finally fallen from his eyes, took a deep breath, shifted gears and drove away. 

\--------

_**6 weeks later…** _

Stiles walked across campus, arm in arm with Charlie, reveling in the warm spring evening which allowed them to stroll rather than speed walk through the park. 

“So what do you think you’re going to do for Spring Break?” Charlie asked, looping her arm through Stiles’ and leaning her head against his shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” Stiles responded. “I’d like to see my dad, but the pack has been all over my ass about this _separation_ (Stiles tried to raise both hands to make quotation marks, forgetting one hand was entwined with Charlie's, and ended up doing an awkward, dis-jointed quotation sign with his one free hand), from Derek.” he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his hand. “I don’t really feel like going home to face the firing squad,” Stiles admitted. “Besides, if I do go home, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep from seeing Derek, and I don’t know if I can face him just yet.” Stiles exhaled sadly. 

“Well, you could always come home with me?” Charlie offered, hopeful. “Meet my pack?” she added. “My mom has been dying to meet you, I talk so much about you,” she continued. 

“I don’t know Charlie,” Stiles said, unsure.

“C’mon, Stiles” Charlie begged. “I know how interested you are in werewolf lore. My _Ak’i_ , uh, aunt, has a huge library, I know she would be happy to let you take a look at her collection. I could probably even talk my mom into letting you look over our pack bestiary if I asked,” Charlie urged.

“Really?” Stiles asked, interest piqued. “Doesn’t your pack date back-”

“Over a thousand years, yes, I know.” Charlie interrupted, stopping abruptly in her tracks and turning to face Stiles. “Look, I’m no miracle worker, but this thing with Derek, you said it was because your pack needs allies, right? Well someday I’m going to be Alpha of my pack. And you, mister future Alpha-mate, are my best friend. I can’t think of a better foundation than that to build an alliance on.” Charlie squeezed Stiles’ arm reassuringly. “Maybe this trip could help you find some of the answers you’re searching for,” She said softly. 

Stiles looked into his friend’s eyes and felt a wave of gratitude for the brunette beauty. “Charlie, I…”Stiles trailed off. “Thank you. I...I’m not promising anything, but I’ll think about it, okay?” He ventured.

“That’s all I ask” Charlie responded, turning to continue their walk back to Stiles’ apartment. 

“I don’t know how I got so lucky, sitting next to you that first day in Freshman Lit.” Stiles marveled. “Miles away from Beacon Hills and the first friend I make at Berkeley, is a werewolf,” he laughed. 

Charlie smiled. “Hey how do you think I felt?” She teased. “I came to school in another country so I could have a normal college experience, and the spazzy kid I thought was a shoo-in for the dictionary definition of normal clocks me for a werewolf inside of an hour.” She laughed, leaning into his shoulder again, before leaning in to sniff suspiciously at Stiles’ neck. 

“Woah there, wolf-girl. What’s with the sniffy-sniff?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

Charlie frowned. “I dunno. It’s strange, your scent…” Charlie trailed off as she took another few sniffs of Stiles’ collar. “Your scent, it seems off somehow, but I can’t place it,” Charlie shook herself, as if rousing herself from a daze. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get weird” She laughed, but her forehead remained creased in a frown. 

“No worries.” Stiles hummed. “Maybe I’m coming down with something. I have been feeling a little off lately.” Stiles said, as he turned them onto his block. 

Charlie nodded. “Well thank god it’s the weekend. Hopefully you can get over whatever it is by the time we leave for spring break,” She said, eyes twinkling as they approached his apartment building.

“Charlie, I said I would think about it,” Stiles argued, exasperated with his friend, but knowing that Charlie being Charlie, she was going to get her way. “Anyway I-” Stiles cut himself off abruptly, startled into silence by the sight that awaited him in front of his apartment door. 

“Stiles” Derek greeted him as he straightened from his decidedly modelesque stance leaning against the wall next to Stiles’ door. 

“Derek.” Stiles’ voice was strangled, shock making him immobile. Derek’s eyes flickered between him and Charlie, resting briefly on their linked arms, before returning to Stiles’ face. When Stiles failed to say anything further, Charlie released her grip on Stiles’ arm, and cleared her throat.

“Ok sooo, Stiles, I’m going to gooo” she said, nudging her friend forward, hoping it urged him into action. 

“No, I..” Stiles started, but Charlie ignored his protests, whispering in his ear “Good luck. Call me later,” and squeezing his hand briefly before making a hasty exit.

As Charlie’s footsteps faded away, Stiles turned back to the man in front of him. Stiles cleared his throat, and swallowed roughly. “Do you want to come in?” he asked, hesitant. 

Derek nodded, his face impassive. Stiles turned and busied himself with unlocking the door, swinging it wide and gesturing for Derek to enter. Derek walked past Stiles, brushing against him and visibly sniffing him, nostrils flared. Stiles rolled his eyes, heaving a mental sigh _(werewolves)_ , and followed him in, fiddling with his keys for a moment before dropping them in the bowl on the counter. He then removed his coat and hung it on the coat rack next to the door. Finally out of excuses, he turned, taking in the man before him. He looked tired, Stiles noted. Dark circles rimmed the Alpha’s eyes, and a full beard had taken the place of his usually carefully maintained stubble. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles spoke first, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against his thigh. 

Derek ignored Stiles’ question, “Who was that woman?” he demanded, eyes glittering.

Stiles felt a flicker of frustration, but tamped it down. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, but that was my friend, Charlie. I’ve mentioned her before.” Stiles responded. 

“She’s a werewolf” Derek bit out, eyes flickering darkly.

“Yeeesss. I know that, Derek. I’ve told you about her before. She’s my friend.” Stiles responded, frustration mounting. “Is this really what you want to talk about?” Stiles asked. 

“Really,” Derek scoffed, jaw clenched tightly, ignoring Stiles’ question once again, and beginning to pace in front of him. “It seems like you have a lot of friends these days” he asserted tightly, eyes rimmed in red and nostrils flaring once more.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Derek.” Stiles clenched his fists tightly. 

“I can’t believe I was such a fool, coming here.” Derek continued as if Stiles hadn’t spoken, his voice rising in pitch as he continued to pace. “You and I obviously have very different definitions of needing space, Stiles. Here I am thinking I would come down here to try to straighten things out with you because I miss you, and you’re out here fucking other people. I guess I just didn’t notice the brush when I got it” Derek ranted, chest heaving and visibly panting as he struggled to control his wolf. 

“Derek, what the fuck are you talking about.” Stiles spat, bewildered at the man’s thought process. “Charlie and I are JUST friends” he asserted.

“Friends. Right” Derek growled.

“YOU’RE INSANE” Stiles hissed, indignation and anger sparking at the accusation. 

Derek’s eyes were now a deep crimson, his fangs visibly lengthening, “What about the others, huh? Have you been whoring yourself out to anyone who comes along, or are they your _friends_ too?” Derek growled loudly, disgust and hurt evident on the word ‘friends’.

“WHAT OTHERS,” Stiles shouted, blood pounding.

“DON’T _LIE_ to me Stiles.” Derek roared. “I can smell them all over you. Inside of you. How many others were you going to fuck before you decided you had had enough _space_?” Derek snarled out, blood dripping onto the floor from where his claws had punctured his fists in an unsuccessful attempt to hold back his shift. 

Silence reigned for a second before Stiles finally found his voice. 

“How DARE you.” Stiles' voice had gone cold, righteous anger making him feel like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. “You don’t get to speak to me like that. You have no right.” 

“I have EVERY right.” Derek countered, shoving Stiles against the wall. “I am your ALPHA.” he roared.

“Not anymore.” Stiles answered, wrenching himself loose of Derek’s hold. “Now get out of my apartment.” Stiles was shaking, breath coming in hard pants.  
  


“Stiles-” Derek looked like he had been punched in the stomach. 

“No. You’re not welcome here anymore.” Stiles reiterated, his eyes dead, his voice cold, hard. “Now get out, before I call the police.” he said. 

Derek grit his teeth, the only sounds in the room their harsh panting breaths and the steady drip, drip, drip, of blood from his tightly clenched palms. He opened his mouth to speak before finally he nodded, making his way to the door and slamming it roughly on his way out. Stiles gripped the wall tightly, his fingers turning white, and silently counted to thirty. 

_‘Keep it together, keep it together, come on, just a few more minutes’_

When he was sure the werewolf was out of earshot, he released his hold, and slid to the floor, sobs wracking his body as he cried. His heart felt as if it had been physically ripped from his chest, his grief devouring him, causing his breaths to come quicker and quicker. Spots began to fill his vision, until he finally faded into the welcome oblivion of unconsciousness. 

________

_**Current day...** _

Stiles jerked violently awake, and swiftly sat up in bed. He took stock of himself, unsure what had woken him. The next second he is up, rushing out of bed, down the hall and up the stairs, familiar dread pooling in his stomach as he realized one of the wards he had so carefully placed around the house mere hours before had been breached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in chapter updates, my brother had a serious accident and had to have surgery. I am his primary caregiver while he recovers, which in addition to my full-time job and grad school, doesn't leave a lot of time for fic writing. So, I definitely won't be able to meet my original timeline of one chapter per week, but I will do my best to post more regularly. Cheers!


	4. Chapter 3 (Stiles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles jerked violently awake, and swiftly sat up in bed. He took stock of himself, unsure what had woken him. The next second he is up, rushing out of bed, down the hall and up the stairs, familiar dread pooling in his stomach as he realized one of the wards he had so carefully placed around the house mere hours before had been breached.

_**Current day...** _

Stiles jerked violently awake, and swiftly sat up in bed. He took stock of himself, unsure what had woken him. The next second he is up, rushing out of bed, down the hall and up the stairs, familiar dread pooling in his stomach as he realized one of the wards he had so carefully placed around the house mere hours before had been breached.

As he runs, he mutters enchantments under his breath, concealing the basement level from sight, so that no one who had ill intentions would be able to gain access to it. He fervently hoped it would be enough to keep the twins safe from whatever new threat was about to present itself. 

Stiles turned the corner into the den and his progress was forcefully halted by an arm shooting out in front of him. 

“Don’t” Isaac’s voice was tense, his focus not on Stiles, but on the front entryway the dim glow from the porch lights filtering through the open door around Derek, who stood silhouetted, muscles taut. Boyd and Cora flanked him on either side, clearly poised for a fight.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, fear making his heart race. 

The wolves surrounding him ignored him. Stiles wrenched himself free of Isaac’s hold and, ignoring his protests, made his way to the entryway, until he was standing just behind Derek’s shoulder, before repeating himself once again, 

“What is it?” he asked. 

Derek’s head tilted slightly in his direction, the only indication he had heard Stiles speak, before he refocused his gaze forward. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Derek commanded, voice impassive.

Stiles felt a flicker of familiar, though long dormant, frustration. 

“I can help, Derek.” Stiles refused to be cowed. He wasn’t a token human anymore, and whatever was out there, Stiles was sure, had come for him. Gaining no response from the werewolf, Stiles tried again.

“Something brought down a ward, Derek.” Stiles tried to inject some authority into his tone, 

“You can’t just…” Stiles tapered off as he felt another ward alarm flare through his consciousness, this time closer than before, a presence as familiar as his own making itself known. 

“That..can’t be…” Stiles stepped around Derek, as if in a trance, his magic, already a bit amped up, immediately pulsing down his arms to his fingertips. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it flowing down the porch steps, into the clearing, and out into the trees on either side. Just as he was about to give up hope, a figure stepped haltingly out into the road and Stiles felt his breath catch. 

“Charlie…” Stiles whispered, frozen. 

Stiles watched as the figure reached out to the Sedan as if to steady herself, before collapsing to the ground. 

“Charlie,” Stiles' voice was a little stronger this time, his heart stuttering back to life and pulse mounting rapidly to beat in double time. 

“CHARLIE” Stiles yelled, voice cracking as he finally regained control of his limbs and scrambled down the steps, running for the fallen figure. 

“Stiles!” Derek reached out to grab him, catching the edge of his sleeve briefly before it slid through his outstretched hand, moments too slow. 

Stiles ignored the shouts calling him back as he skidded to a stop next to the figure laying face down and motionless in the road. Kneeling down, heart in his throat, Stiles reached out and gently turned her over. 

“Charlie” Stiles whispered, tears filling his eyes as he took stock of her many wounds. 

“Stiles,” Charlie breathed out, eyes half-lidded and glassy. 

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod” Stiles mumbled under his breath, trying to remain calm as he quickly hoisted her into his arms and turned to make his way back to the house. Only then did he realize he was now surrounded by werewolves, many of whom looked ready for battle. 

Uncertain, Stiles paused, clutching Charlie protectively against his body. After a brief moment, Boyd stepped forward into Stiles’ space, reaching out, 

“Let me” he offered, gaze steady on his. 

Stiles nodded briefly, before relinquishing his friend to Boyd’s careful hold. Boyd then turned and ran swiftly back to the house, Stiles trailing in his wake.

________

“SCOTT” Stiles yelled, entering the house at a run, before pausing on the threshold.

“In here!” his friend called out, and Stiles followed the sound of his friend’s voice to the kitchen, where he was surprised to see the other wolves clearing the kitchen island of its contents. Scott gestured to Boyd when the surface was clean, and Boyd stepped forward, laying his charge gently on the cold slab as Scott began to examine her wounds. 

“...stiles..” Charlie whispered, eyes flickering open once more. 

“I’m here, Charlie” Stiles' voice broke, overcome with emotion, and he reached for her hand, gripping it securely between his own. “I’m here” he soothed, brushing the hair out of her face. Stiles continued murmuring soothingly to Charlie, petting her hair and squeezing her hand rhythmically each time she gasped in pain, as Scott continued his evaluation. 

“Stiles,” Scott interrupted his vigil, gripping his arm and pulling him to the side. 

“What is it,” Stiles asked, his gaze finally leaving Charlie’s prone form to meet Scott’s, and his heart constricted painfully at the sorrow he sees in the other man’s eyes. 

“No” Stiles shakes his head vehemently, 

“nonononono, Scott, you gotta do something, man” Stiles’ voice starts to shake, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. 

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Scott starts, his voice rough with emotion. 

“Her wounds, I- I’ve never seen anything like them before,” he continues as Stiles starts to pace the length of the table. 

“They look like werewolf bites, but they aren’t healing. I would normally assume she was bitten by an Alpha, but they’ve become infected, diseased somehow..” Scott trailed off. 

“..wolfs...bane…” Charlie murmured, clearly having heard their exchange.

“They...injected….wolfsbane…special...strand” her voice faded in and out, but her meaning was clear. Stiles started to shake, his brain racing as his mind played her words over and over. 

“No,” Stiles stated, voice shaking, wiping his eyes. He strode purposefully over to his friend and gripped her hand once more. 

“NO,” he intoned, eyes beginning to spark. 

“...St...Stiles” Charlie choked, sputtering as blood wets her lips. “It’s..too...late..Stiles” she tried, eyes beginning to slip closed. 

“No, Charlie,” Stiles begged, shaking his friend until her eyes were open once again. 

“...Stiles?..” Charlie asked, fear entering her voice for the first time. “Where..are….you?” she asked, voice trembling.

“I..I can..can’t..see..you..any..more” she coughed out, more blood spilling from her lips. 

“I’m right here,” Stiles responded, gripping her hand more securely, as his friend stared up at him with unseeing eyes.

“Please don’t leave me” Stiles whispered haltingly, voice thick, tears streaming silently down his face as he touched his forehead gently to hers. 

“I need you” he breathed out, shuddering as he felt her own weak breaths stir the air against his cheek. 

His breaths began to come more quickly, the edges of a panic attack creeping up on him, but he was distracted, pulled from the edge, by the hand in his suddenly squeezing painfully tight. 

________

“Stiles...it’s too late..for me…....” Charlie’s eyes were suddenly clear as they met his, burning a bright Alpha red. 

“You...have to take it…” Charlie broke off suddenly, coughs racking her frame. “The bond...Laura...she’s too young... _Stiles_ ” Charlie was crushing his hand now, eyes wild, desperation surfacing as she struggled to breathe. 

_“Take it, Stiles…_ ” She implored him as black lines began to spiderweb up her neck. Stiles was frozen for a split second before the meaning of her words finally clicked into place. 

_The bond._

Stiles’ eyes flickered with a hint of his magic as he looks, and then he _sees_. 

There was a pack bond connecting him to Charlie, and two more traveling down through the floor. His connection to Charlie had somehow superseded the precaution he had taken in never officially joining her mother’s pack, forming a pack bond. 

A sliver of fear raced down his spine as the rest of her words registered.

_Laura._

Stiles’ focus returned with razor-like precision to his best friend, 

“Was it a wolf or a hunter?” he questioned, but Charlie’s eyes had begun to glaze over, her breaths coming in horrible, shallow, rattles. 

“Charlie!” Stiles shook her gently, desperately needing an answer, and hoping against hope he was wrong about the answer. 

“Wolf or Hunter??” he pressed.

“..it was...hunter,” Charlie slurred, blood bubbling up from her lips. 

“Please....take it…” she gasped, “before...too late…” 

Stiles’ heart clenched painfully in fear as the magnitude of her words sunk in, adrenaline pumping through his veins in response. 

“If I do this, Charlie-” Stiles’ voice faltered, “you’ll die” he whispered, eyes locked on his friend.

Charlie looked up at him, eyes soft, throat working for a few minutes before she got the words out, 

“...already gone-” she rasped, coughing again, more blood gurgling out to coat her now blood-stained face. 

“Just...had..to be sure…for..Laura” she wheezed out.

Stiles felt a gut wrenching pang at her response. Charlie had known she was dying and had chosen to spend her last hours getting here, all to save Laura from the insanity that would almost certainly have resulted from becoming an Alpha at such a young age.

________

Stiles looked into her eyes, gripping her face gently between his hands. 

“I love you, Charlie,” he declared, painfully aware it might be his last chance ever to tell her what she meant to him.

“Do you hear me?” he asked. 

“I love you” he repeated, voice catching.

Charlie’s lips lifted in an imitation of a smile, her lips and teeth smeared with blood, but behind the frightening red eyes and blood stained fangs, Stiles saw the same fierce, fiery, headstrong, beautiful young woman who had walked into his life seven years ago and refused to walk back out. He saw his best friend, who had been there for him through every trial he’d faced since he left Beacon Hills. 

“I...love you...too” she whispered, then, 

“You’re my...person.” she let out a horrible croaking laugh which dissolved into a cough, black bile now mixed with blood, before finally, gasping for breath she grit out, 

“tell..twins..I...love-”

“I promise,” Stiles cut her off, nodding emphatically. Charlie nodded herself before wincing in pain. 

“hur..hurry...Stiles...I..feel..so..weak…” she whispers, as her eyes begin to slip closed once more. She jerked herself awake, clearly trying desperately to stay alert. 

Stiles nodded again, wiped his sweaty palm on his shirt, and gripped his friend’s hand more firmly, placing his other hand over her heart as his eyes again began to spark. 

________

He breathed deeply and tried not to let his nerves get the best of him. He had only done this once before, and that had been an accident. As he felt his power growing, he dropped Charlie’s hand, reaching forward instead to grasp her by the back of the neck, pulling her close. When he felt his magic cresting, he reached out, sending his magic pulsing down his arm and into her chest. Eyes blinded now by the intensity of the magic, he focused his gaze inward, on the glowing amber fire in his chest that was the source of his Spark. Following their bond-line, he located the corresponding ruby fire in Charlie that was her Alpha spark. He sent tendrils of his own magic to wrap around hers, until the red flame was fully encased in amber fire, the red sputtering once, twice, then a third time as the two sparks began to merge. His eyes met Charlie’s one final time, and she nodded, lips quirked up. With a final push of his magic, she bared her neck to him as her spark guttered, before flaring a bright, ethereal blue. 

His own spark recoiled suddenly like a spring, and his eyes bled from gold to red. Stumbling backwards, Stiles released his hold on Charlie, as he struggled to remain in control. Pain ripped through his chest, electrified with the sudden influx of power. His awareness returned just in time to feel the final embers of Charlie’s now blue Beta spark die out, and see the light fade from his friend’s eyes. His control, hanging by a mere thread, snapped at the sight, and he wrenched himself away from the arms that reached out for him, stumbling blindly out the back door and into the woods, the only thing in the back of his mind a vague feeling of _not safe_ and the pressing need to get _away, away, away._

________

He made it roughly a hundred yards before he shattered, ripped apart by grief. He fell to his knees as he screamed in agony, despair engulfing him and magic exploding out of him like a bomb to decimate the surrounding area. The last thing he remembered before the comforting black abyss of unconsciousness claimed him was the sight of Derek, running towards him, frantically calling his name.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I would apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter up, but...I work in health care, and COVID, ya know? I'm basically a zombie at this point so all I will apologize for is the lazy writing. Maybe. (shrug). Enjoy! (hopefully).


End file.
